Romanze
by Fan Fan Girl
Summary: One-shot. Reddish white disease and filmy smoke and Coquette des Blanches perfume and cuts and bruises and splinters and words words words words words, ringing in her ears and bursting with the grace of evening fireworks: the touch on her skin.


_Romanze_

Her body held still in the air, her arms straight at her sides, feet planted firm on the twinkling faces of stars. White light danced on her face; she stared unsmilingly as dust shimmered and passed by her eyes, always drifting down, disappearing at the edges of the darkness beyond her feet. A cold, dry wind dragged past her, and somewhere far away there was the echo of man's voice.

At the other side of the expanse, small in the distance, lingered a shroud of darkness. At once she knew that he was there, voicelessly moaning, turning in his struggle, crushed by the poison. She began to walk to him; on either side of her remote galaxies floated by. The churning cloud of darkness grew as she neared, and soon it was as large as an island itself. Without even blinking she stepped inside. Black mist engulfed her every sense. First it clung loosely to her skirts and brushed along her tiny shoulders, but as she journeyed farther her body was invaded by it, and when she tried to separate her fingers but they stuck and she found that she could not. Her steady steps slowed into exhausting trudges and she squeezed fat drops of blackness out of her eyes, her head weighed upon her neck and her body staggered languidly. Her knees struck the ground, the darkness thick upon her back, she breathed through her teeth and when she looked up his body lay writhing ahead.

She crawled on her hands and knees to him, faltering when sludge fell on her from above, and she finally rested at his side, her legs folded beneath her. Taking his face in her hands she lifted his head onto her lap, trembling. His skin was dyed black and his hair was drenched, his arms thrashed, his chest pumped for air. Occasionally his eyes would open and there was a terrifying flash of white.

She grieved and stroked his cheek, wiping her thumb across it so that for a moment she could see his skin.

It was tan, alive, something of his own, and gone in an instant. She clutched his head and rocked in dizzy, swaying darkness.

"See? See... it's better this way..."

-

_friend to dark pathways,  
unrecognizable now  
lost in a promise_

-

The smell of powder filled the air as she dusted her cheeks a modest white.

In the mirror her lips rolled under the tube of lipstick. She pressed them together. A deep scarlet. She parted her lips and pouted them.

Perfect.

She picked up a bottle of perfume, dusting herself with the rose scent. It reminded her of spirits vanishing in a mysterious glade.

At last she stood and gave herself one last inspection. Then she left her room and descended the manor's stairs. She passed through the courtyard and entered into Balancoire. She found the clean, abandoned street and followed its narrow path to the end.

There she met him and took his arm. They walked together, silent, through the dappled, winding street.

-

_a rose was born and  
it was you in the far place  
alone in the morn_

-

Excrutiating — bones dislocating, tendons coming undone, blood vessels stretching until they split in half — spilling pain — crack, crackling, rack, back, retch — sore, searing, ache in his back and his heart — pulling away — _no!_

Feathers cutting the air. From above, falling, darkness and gore. Cut. Pull. Grasping it, shredded. Dismembered.

Screaming until her throat goes raw with blood. Choke, shock, anxiety. Slammed to the floor, and her mind catches fire. Raging, raging, rage. Not just hot — intense — white searing, thick black — caught in torrent of words.

He... wing draped... broken... over his knee... Why...? Now... death... is free... He is free...

-

_fractures in their trust  
shatter the whole, inside snap  
broken in the end_

-

...She didn't want to hurt him; that was never her intention.

It was hard to explain, then, after all that had happened. In the end she came out looking like the villain, when she was just trying to help him. In her own way, the only way she knew how.

On quiet evenings she reflected. How much she sacrificed to save him. Did he know why she came back to life?

It was because she wanted to be nurtured. By him. When she thought she was done, Malpercio took her back and set her on the land, in his path.

She took control of things, and at that time only because he was so similar to her. An empty heart. He had a pulse, but no lifeblood.

She tried to save him, though she gets no credit for it. She cared when no one else did. She held his hand. Filled the void. ...And?

Silence.

Perhaps she can forgive, but the fireworks have faded now and she is wafting away. Maybe she'll disappear. Away in the shadows, a fragrance that doesn't linger.

-

_romantic betrayal_


End file.
